


Failure Modes

by Mollyamory (Molly)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Found Family, Getting Together, Inept wooing, M/M, friendly manipulation because Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly/pseuds/Mollyamory
Summary: There are so many ways this could go wrong, it's hard to pick just one.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 48
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Failure Modes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inalasahl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inalasahl/gifts).



> For purposes of this story, canon veers onto a happier, less divisive track after Avengers -- because the world needs more teamfic. 
> 
> Happy Chocolate Box Day!

"You should just ask him," Nat says, leaning back against the counter where Tony is dumping sugar into his coffee. 

"See, you sound friendly," Tony complains, "but your advice is usually so terrible, I can't help but think it comes from a place of malice and betrayal."

She rolls her eyes -- again, not so friendly -- and folds her arms across her chest. "Maybe if it was just about you," she says, smiling faintly. "But I like Bruce, so you should trust me on this. Ask him."

"I'm not just coming out and asking him." Tony grins down at his mug; an insult from Natasha is about as close to heart-eyes as she gets. "I am not a teenager, I'm not going to just pass him a note in class."

"If you did, he'd check the box for yes," Clint says from behind him, close enough Tony nearly jumps right out of his shirt. "Maybe you should try it."

"Jesus, Barton! Don't ninja me when I haven't had my first cup of coffee, it's terrifying. And uncouth."

"Awww, Tony, you really do see me, don't you. Gimme." 

Clint reaches over Tony's shoulder to snag his coffee, but Tony's wise to his thieving ways and manages to block him. He loses about a quarter of the contents in the process and ends up leaning against Clint's side, wheezing from laughter. But winning is winning, so that's okay. "Back off, Junior Bird Man. And you, too," he finishes with a transparently fake glare at Natasha -- wisely aborting the nicknaming process in favor of keeping all his blood inside his body. 

She shrugs and bumps her shoulder up against his. "You told us you might need a little push," she says. "You said--"

"'Don't let me talk myself out of it!'" Clint chimes in along with her. "We're just following through."

Tony waves his hand in the general direction of Bruce's lab, a couple of floors above them. "I'm working up to it!" 

Nat shakes her head and pushes off the counter. "I met braver men than you in kindergarten, Stark."

"That's not -- no. Hey!" he shouts at her back as she saunters out. "I am extremely brave!" He looks over at Clint, and in a more subdued voice says, "I am _extremely_ brave."

"You have a certain laissez-faire relationship with survival," Clint allows. "But I'm not sure that's the same thing. Can I have your coffee?"

"No, you cannot," Tony says, because wow, so many levels of rudeness there, it's hard to unpack. "And you know what? I'm almost certain that woman never went to kindergarten."

"Oh, she did. Don't ever ask her about it, though." Clint shudders dramatically. "Nightmare fuel. If you won't give me your coffee, will you at least stop hogging the coffee maker?"

"No. You have to earn access to this coffee maker through hard work and acts of kindness, and you've proven you're capable of neither."

"Fine." Clint plants himself on the counter next to Tony, leans back against the wall, and closes his eyes. "You'll get bored long before I get desperate. And this way, I can tell you all the reasons you really should --"

"I'm not asking him!" Tony knocks back a gulp of coffee and says, "Oh my god," around it, trying to decide if he can spit it out without looking stupid. 

"Yeah, you put about ten spoons of sugar in there while Nat was needling you. Why'd you think I wanted it?"

"I don't know, because you're a ridiculous overgrown man-child?" It's just Clint, so Tony spits the coffee into the sink and wipes his mouth on the sleeve of the shirt he'd slept in. He shoves the mug at Clint with a sour look. "Enjoy it. I'm going downstairs to buy something less toxic that hopefully comes with a muffin."

~

Thor, looking vaguely obscene in a a full set of workout clothes and a gleaming layer of sweat, accosts Tony on his way to the elevator. Before he can even open his mouth, Tony says, "Do not even start with me. The murder twins got here first." 

Little in life is harder to bear than the disappointment of a woeful thunder god, but Tony somehow manages to survive it. "I take it you have not yet asked him. Tony, my friend, you stray from the path of courage. If it is rejection you fear, I assure you, there is no need. The good doctor thinks the world of you."

"Yes," Tony says, "I'm aware, Thor. Thank you."

"Is it the physical danger that concerns you, then? Banner and I have spoken often of the grave responsibility that comes with our great strength, and I do not believe he would agree to any activity that might put your well-being at risk."

Tony groans. "That is... that is inappropriate." He glances over at Thor and catches the laughter in his eyes. "You know that's inappropriate. Of course you do."

"You are as observant as ever," Thor declares. "Which is why I cannot understand your hesitation. You did tell us--"

"Don't let me talk myself out of it," Tony says, "yes, I know, I did say that, I was sober at the time, I can't explain it. I have regrets--"

"You do not," Thor says knowingly. 

Tony laughs, shaking his head. "No, I do not."

"Then I shall continue to lend you my support as vocally and inappropriately as ever."

"And I shall continue to protest vocally and disingenuously, as usual."

"We understand each other well, then." Thor reaches up and ruffles Tony's hair like he's a kid -- which Tony supposes he is, to an immortal thunder god, so fair enough -- and gives him a gentle push toward the elevator that's just arrived. "To battle, then, brother!" 

In the privacy of the closed elevator, Tony leans against the wall and grins quietly to himself. "These people are horrible," he tells himself cheerfully. 

Because they _are_ , and that means he fits right in. 

~ 

When Tony finally makes it to his workshop with his coffee and his muffin, Steve is lying in wait for him.

Well, he's sitting in wait, anyway -- camped out on Tony's battered workshop sofa with a sketch pad and colored pencils, acting like he's just there to hang out. Tony knows better. He knows his team, knows what they're thinking before they do -- just like they know him. He knows which way Clint will jump to make a shot, knows the sheer havoc Natasha can wreak on a squad of Hydra agents without ever being seen. He knows the precise shade of absynthian rage Hulk reaches just before he unleashes destruction on a hapless flight of Doombots -- and he knows Steve Rogers doesn't look this innocent unless he's plotting something. 

Usually something Tony's not going to like. 

"Dummy, please eject this intruder from my workspace," Tony orders immediately upon entering his very private, personal domain. "Jarvis, we talked about this. Didn't we talk about this? Didn't we agree--"

"Captain Rogers brought a gift, sir," Jarvis says in that butter-wouldn't-melt tone that absolutely means he's fucking with him. "As per the Birthday Protocol, which was instituted in 2012 and has never been rescinded, Avengers bearing gifts are not to be denied access to the workshop under any circumstances."

"I believe I've uncovered the flaw in your argument, which is: Today is not my birthday. My birthday is in May, and unless I've fallen through a temporal wormhole of some kind, this is February."

"Respectfully, sir, I assumed if you had intended the Birthday Protocol to limit gift-bearer access to a specific date, you would have included one in the coding. As you did not--"

"Oh my god, Jarvis! It is literally called the _Birthday Protocol_ , what did you _think_ \--"

The very important, very good point Tony is making is interrupted by laughter from the opposite end of the room. Tony spares one last, pointed glare toward one of Jarvis's cameras before turning his attention to Steve. "You. Stop that, you have a stupid laugh, you sound like a lunatic. What did you bring me? Can I assume we're still requiring gifts as part of the Birthday gift-giving Protocol, Jarvis?"

Jarvis responds with a frosty silence, during which Steve approaches the work bench with Dummy trailing behind him, tugging ineffectually at the hem of his t-shirt and whirring companionably. One day AIM is going to break in to murder him in his sleep, and Dummy will lead them right to his bed. "Here." Steve tears a page out of his sketch book and slides it across the desk. "Happy birthday, Tony," he says solemnly.

Tony presses his lips together, waiting, because he knows Steve, and he can almost count down the seconds before the grin gets away from him. When it does, Tony levels a finger at him and glares, vindicated. "You're a terrible human being, Rogers. I don't know why more people don't know that about you."

"So I'm a little early," Steve says, looking utterly satisfied with himself. "Still counts. Right, Jarvis?"

"I will sell you to Apple," Tony promises Jarvis absently. "I will package you in rose gold titanium, and you can spend the rest of your long, unhappy life turning lights off and on and answering questions about the weather. Do not test me." He glances down at the page Steve has gifted him with, and sighs. 

"What, you don't like it?"

It's actually kind of awesome. Captured in smudged pencil, Bruce sits at the desk in his lab, chin propped up on one hand, fast asleep. There's a steaming mug of tea next to his elbow, and a bubbling beaker of something probably radioactive just in front of him. It's giving off a green glow that lights up his face from below. It's adorable, it's definitely on-brand for Bruce Banner, and it would actually be an amazing gift if not for the words "ASK ME!" lettered in comic sans on the lenses of his glasses. 

Tony looks up at Steve over the rims of his own glasses. "You think you're pretty hilarious, don't you."

Steve shrugs, completely unrepentant. "I have my moments."

"I'm not --"

"Tony."

"Do not 'Tony' me in that Pepper tone of voice, it only works for hot blondes."

Steve raises his eyebrows. 

"Hot blondes I actually _like,_ " Tony amends, because fair enough; he has to give Steve that one. "Why are you people so into this all the sudden? Can't an Iron Man get a single moment's peace around here? I have work to do, I have meetings -- Jarvis, do I have meetings?"

"You are scheduled to attend three meetings before four PM today. They have been on your schedule every Friday for the past three years, and you have never attended any of them. I did not feel they merited a reminder."

"Well, I'm going to them today."

"I am sure Ms. Potts' excitement will be exceeded only by her surprise, sir."

"Do you hear that? Traitors on all sides," Tony tells Steve indignantly. "And you're supposed to be my backup!"

"Okay, look." Steve grabs another chair and spins it around, sitting with his arms propped on the back of it. There's no humor in his face now, just quiet concern. "Everybody here just wants you to be happy. Both of you. I think you know that. But if we're going at it too hard, I can shut it all down. Is that what you want me to do?"

"No," Tony says instantly. "Yes. Maybe?" He gnaws absently at his thumbnail, a ridiculous habit his mother hand never quite managed to break him of. "No, you guys are fine. I'm the one who's having trouble getting with the program -- and I _wrote_ the program."

"All right, then. As your back up, I suggest you answer one question for me -- honestly, if you think you can manage it -- and we'll decide what to do from there. Deal?"

Tony leans back in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose, right below the spot where a tiny headache is just beginning to blossom. He waves his other hand at Steve to indicate agreement, and closes his eyes. He knows what's coming.

"A couple of days ago, when Clint...called attention to your problem... you could have denied it. You could have made it into a joke. We would have bought it, because you're really good at keeping your private life private, when you want to be. But you didn't do any of that." 

"No," Tony agrees. "I didn't."

"Instead, you asked us to help keep you on track."

"I did that, yes."

"So I have to wonder -- what happened between then and now to make you question your instincts? Because from where I sit, your instincts about people are usually pretty good."

"I started to think of all the many and varied ways this could go wrong."

"Let's hear them," Steve says, settling in to work the problem. 

Tony counts them off on his fingers. "He could say no. He could leave. He could say no and _not_ leave, but wander around looking sad and awkward and weird. He could say yes and leave anyway at some future date. He could say yes and stay and we live happily ever after, except I spend the rest of my life waiting for him to come to his senses and leave." Tony groans, and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Ugh, Nat is right. I'm a coward, aren't I?"

Steve nods seriously, his eyes extremely kind. "Yes, you are. But on the bright side, you're a coward in exactly the same way everybody else in the world is. Everybody wants a guarantee; nobody gets one. That's just life, Tony."

"So I should... I should ask him."

"Yes, you should." 

"I should just... ask him if he's -- if he would--" Tony rolls his eyes at himself, utterly disgusted. "If he _likes_ me." 

Steve grins, suddenly enjoying this way too much for Tony's comfort. "If it helps, we're all pretty sure he does."

"You say that like it somehow makes it less terrifying. You may not have noticed this, but for a futurist, I'm actually a big fan of the status quo. Big changes in my life have not traditionally gone my way." 

"You know..." Steve says slowly. "I don't really have anywhere to be right now. So if you want, I can just hang out here. If things don't come out like you want, you can come back and punch me in the nose. You know you've always wanted to." 

Tony rises to his feet, laughing. "Well, sure, who wouldn't? But just for the bragging rights, you understand. It's been a while since I wanted to punch you for your own sake."

"I'm happy to hear it. Now, go get your guy, Tony. He's been waiting long enough."

~

Tony finds Bruce in his lab, and watches him for a minute through the reinforced plate glass wall that keeps the world out and the mad science safely in. He moves easily through his work, his face relaxed in solitary concentration the way it almost never is in company. 

His hair's getting a little long, curling over his forehead enough to irritate him -- he keeps reaching up to brush it away, but it keeps falling back again. Like always, Tony's fingers itch to do something about it. He's spent a lot of time this past year thinking about what Bruce's skin would feel like if he really got to spend some time on it -- more than the not-really casual brushes of hands he sometimes engineers. Real time and attention. He wonders if he'd be able to feel the iron beneath Bruce's skin, the strength it takes to maintain that constant control. He thinks -- he hopes -- that he could. 

When the watching starts to feel like stalking, Tony taps on the glass door and waves. Bruce's face changes when he sees Tony, wakes up somehow. He smiles, and his eyes light up, and Tony's not sure anyone's ever looked at him quite like that before. Like being there is the whole ball game; like just showing up is _enough_. 

The door opens with a slight hiss, air rushing to fill in the lower pressure. It closes behind him, he walks over to Bruce's desk, and this is it. This is the moment everything changes.

"Hey, Tony," Bruce says, "what's up? I was just thinking about you."

"Looks to me like you were just thinking about horse tranquilizers." Tony waves a hand at Bruce's holographic white board. "Clint's magic arrows not working out?"

"No, they're fine. They get the job done, but they knock me out for a full day and when I wake up, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Moreso than usual, I mean. I keep hoping I can find something just as effective, but a little easier to come back from."

"How's that going?"

"Great. I think I just re-invented Benadryl." His fingers flicker over the holographic interface, and the equations fade out, leaving a faint, blank shimmer behind. "Back to the drawing board, I guess," he says, and alarms start going off in Tony's head. He can feel Bruce's attention drifting away.

"Before you dive back in... can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," Bruce says, eyes still on his screens. "What's on your mind?"

"Well." Tony scratches at the back of his neck and looks at Bruce sideways, aiming for casual -- or, failing that, awkwardly charming. He feels off-kilter, like he never is with Bruce. "It's not really a conversation that lends itself to multi-tasking," he says.

"Oh?" Bruce's eyebrows go up with the question, and then something clicks into place behind his eyes and a smile dawns across his face. "Oh! Are we doing this right now?"

Tony blinks. "I don't know, are we? What do you think we're doing?"

"The -- you know. Is this the big conversation? We don't have to be in the lab for it, do we? Though -- I mean, it makes sense, since this is kind of where it started."

Tony blinks again, and his eyebrows draw together. "Where what started, exactly?"

"I guess it actually started that first time Loki tried to take over the planet, but --" A slight flush darkens Bruce's cheeks, and Tony finds it both confusing and delightful. "This is where we really got to know each other, so it's kind of fitting, don't you think?"

"I honestly have no idea what's happening right now," Tony says with a faint smile. "But keep going, I'll catch up eventually."

"I'm talking about you and me. Us. Together?" The flush deepens, and Bruce waves a hand in the space between them. "Isn't that -- that's what you want to talk about, right?"

"You are like...way out in front of me on this," Tony says wonderingly. "Wow, Banner. You scooped me." He shakes his head -- a little lost, but totally willing to go with it. "I can honestly say I didn't see that coming."

It should be great; it should be making things easier. But Bruce is frowning now, and that is definitely not how it's supposed to go. "I thought," Bruce says slowly, "you were about to ask me to-- if I wanted to--" He swallows nervously, like Tony's fading angst has somehow transferred itself to him telepathically. "Did I get it wrong?"

"No! I mean, yes, I was absolutely about to do that. I just didn't think you knew I was about to do that." Tony takes a step closer, partly as reassurance and partly just because closer to Bruce is always where Tony wants to be. "How did you know that, anyway?"

"Was it supposed to be a surprise? Because if it was, you maybe shouldn't have told SHIELD before you told me."

And now Tony is frowning, too. "Excuse me?"

"Coulson called me yesterday. He wanted me to sign some forms before we ... take any irrevocable steps." 

"Okay," Tony says, taking both of Bruce's hands in his, "Okay. That's terrifying and awful. But I promise you, there is no way in hell I told Coulson about any steps we might take, irrevocable or otherwise."

"Then how did he--"

Bruce's face clears with understanding just as Tony figures it out. "Barton," they say with one voice -- though Tony says it a little more viciously. "Of course. Excuse me, I'll be right back, I have to go murder him now."

Bruce's hands tighten around Tony's to keep him in place. "Can that wait?" His voice drops into a lower register that seems to stop time. "I thought you said we weren't going to multitask."

Every thought in Tony's head turns to liquid at that tone, and his face heats under the intensity of Bruce's gaze. "Right," he says, "right, uh, yes. Let's not do that. Let's do something else."

"Like talk?"

Tony gives his head a shake to clear it. "Right. Talking. Yes. We could do that. Or -- hear me out." He smiles, inviting Bruce to do the same, and Bruce does, and that is -- that is amazing. That's perfect. He moves closer to that smile, which is perfect, and just for him. "Since you clearly already know what I was going to say, and since you seem to be... not averse to this idea... we could talk later."

"That seems like we'd be skipping a pretty important step," Bruce says, but his hold on Tony's hands has turned into a slight tug, which is promising. Extremely, extremely promising.

"Not skipping," Tony insists. "Postponing. We could talk in, say, five minutes?"

"Wow," Bruce says flatly. "Five whole minutes? That's all the time you need? That's not really what I've been led to expect."

"We could talk tonight. Or hey, in the morning. Over breakfast." Tony's smile widens, getting a little out of control. "And for now--wait." He tilts his head to the side. "Led to expect by whom, exactly?"

"Oh," Bruce says vaguely, starting to blush again. "You know. People say things."

"Bruce Banner. Did you _google_ me?"

"No! Of course not," Bruce says indignantly. "I wouldn't listen to random people on the internet about you, Tony. I'm a scientist."

"Right," Tony says slowly. "So..."

"I emailed Pepper."

"...right. Of course you did."

"Primary sources are important," Bruce says, his eyes bright with laughter. 

"Yeah?" Tony reels Bruce in closer; he doesn't have any choice about that at this point, and he's starting to feel very, very pleased with himself. "In that case, I'd be thrilled to assist you with your research."

He's touched Bruce before. Friendly touches, normal things. Just enough to know it's nothing like enough. Even this isn't enough -- Bruce's arms around him, the brush of Bruce's breath against his skin, it's almost unbearably good but it's not _enough_. Tony pushes closer and finds Bruce's mouth and that -- that's what he's wanted, that's what he needed and wasn't sure he'd ever get to have. The sounds Bruce makes as he wraps himself around Tony, opens up for him, says his name -- God, he wishes he'd done something to earn this, to deserve it somehow, but he hasn't and he doesn't and that's going to have to be okay, because he's not giving it up. 

When he's sure -- when he's felt Bruce relax against him, melt into him, offering everything Tony never got the chance to ask for -- he's able to back it down, step back from the edge a little. The lab may be where everything started for them, but it's certainly not where he wants this next part of everything to end. He's got a perfectly good suite upstairs, comfortable chairs, excellent view...clean sheets.... Everything they might need to begin a really in-depth discussion. 

"Can we go somewhere not here?" Tony breathes into the scant space between them. "I want to tell you everything about you that makes me crazy, and show you exactly how crazy, and I prefer to do that someplace where the walls aren't made of glass. I keep expecting to see the rest of the team watching and waving encouraging signs at us."

"They do seem to lack boundaries about this sort of thing," Bruce says, nodding immediately. "Let's go to your place. It's closer."

It's exactly one floor closer, but Tony appreciates the enthusiasm and can't wait to return it. He drags Bruce through the lab, out the door, onto the elevator, and then at the last minute -- when the door opens onto the penthouse -- his upstairs brain kicks in. 

He doesn't pull Bruce directly into the bedroom, much as he'd like to. What he does instead is say, as firmly as he can manage, "I need to know you're really sure about this. There's no pressure here. You don't have to--"

"Tony."

"--do anything you don't want, you don't have to worry about disappointing me or hurting my feelings, just--"

"Tony. Hey." Bruce touches Tony's face, turns him so he can't avoid Bruce's gaze. "I've got a metric ton of ragemonster trapped under my skin, ready to pop out and defend my honor at a moment's notice. I don't do anything I don't want to do. Not ever. I don't feel threatened or coerced or any of the things you're thinking right now. What I feel is incredibly lucky to be standing here with you, doing exactly what we're doing." He lays a hand on Tony's chest, warm as a brand. "Or exactly what we're going to be doing a few minutes from now. That's luckier than I ever thought I'd get."

"God. You are." Tony shakes his head, unable to find adequate language for this. "You are not the guy getting lucky here."

"Well, right now neither of us are. Which seems unfair, since I did sign a whole lot of HR forms that implied my luck might be changing. In case it's not abundantly clear, I definitely want this."

"Want what," Tony asks gently. He's determined to be okay with the answer, but he has to hear it. "What's on offer, here? You want to come to bed with me, or...is that--" He swallows around a sudden tightness in his throat. "That's not all you want, is it? Because it's not that for me. Not just that, anyway."

"I want to go everywhere with you." Bruce presses another kiss against Tony's mouth, then draws back a little, still close enough they're breathing the same air. "To bed, to breakfast, to the moon, I don't care. You gave me a home, a place I could feel safe, a way to use what I am for good when I never thought that was possible. And you never asked for anything in return, and you look at me like -- like I'm a person, like I deserve to exist, even with -- with everything that's happened. I want whatever you're willing to give me, Tony, but -- are _you_ sure? Because I'm not really the easiest person to be with. I've got some baggage."

"Yeah, I've met him. He's awesome. I love your baggage. I mean, you're definitely my favorite, I only love the other you platonically. But yes, I'm sure. I've been sure since we met. Point of fact: I've been so sure for so long that the rest of our misfit family is now sure enough for both of us, if that makes any difference--"

"Okay!" Bruce laughs, breaking into the flood of words, which is good because Tony could probably go on in that vein for quite some time. "Okay, then if we're both sure and all the relevant government agencies have been notified and have issued their approval... can we maybe move this thing along? I seem to recall I was promised a research position."

"And I was promised you'd accept it," Tony says, pulling Bruce back in. "Looks like we both get what we want."

~

**Author's Note:**

> I had a great time with your preference set! I mean, any time spent with Bruce and Tony is a good time, but your request was pretty much exactly what I like about them, and I really had fun. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
